History Rewritten
by bubblegumb1
Summary: An Angel gone rogue sends the boys back in time to prevent the apocalpyse. But he overshoots the distance and the result is...less than satisfactory. Or is it?


**Disclaimer:** Supernatural is owned by Eric Kripke and the CW. I own nothing, except for any original characters that may pop up. I do however, own the plot of this story, so DON'T STEAL IT!!!

**AN:** I am looking for a beta to check for grammar/spelling errors and to check for plot holes. This CAN be two separate beta's. If you are interested in beta'ing for me please leave your contact information and other stories you have beta'd in a review.

Rated M for Mature. This story WILL contain swearing and violence.

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It's the dead of night when Mary Winchester nee Campbell jerks awake with a gasp. Unsure of what woke her, she glances at the digital clock sitting on her bedside. 2:22 am. Perfect. Being 8 months pregnant she was accustomed to waking up at all hours of the night, for absolutely no reason. She always had been a light sleeper.

John rolled towards her with a sleepy "S'wrong?" but before she could answer there came a blood curdling scream from down the hall.

Dean.

John rocketed off the bed and down the hall, Mary hot on his heels. Adrenaline running through her veins she stopped dead at the sight that greeted her in her baby boy's bedroom. Dean was thrashing about, blankets a twisted mess, eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide open screaming. John was hovering on the edge of his bed, unsure of what to do. Finally he decided on trying to hold him down so he wouldn't injure himself. Mary, not knowing what else to do, called out to her child helplessly,

"Dean! Baby what's wrong!?"

But nothing changed, his screaming impossibly raising itself in pitch before cracking and becoming silent. However it didn't result in Dean becoming more coherent, merely making his screaming a silent gasp of air that tore at Mary's maternal emotions. Tears streaming down her face Mary called out to her husband,

"John!"

"I don't know!" He cried helplessly, at just as much of a loss as his wife. It was then that she felt her baby stirring. She began kicking up a storm, which was followed by the uncomfortable rollercoaster sensation of her baby rolling over and over, twisting and turning. It was _very_ uncomfortable.

"John, something's wrong. The baby's acting up."

"What?" he replied, busy trying to keep Deans thrashing to a minimum.

"The baby!" She cried, truly panicked now. Not only was there something wrong with her oldest child, now her unborn one was acting peculiar and it frightened her.

It was then that Dean began to still, his silent screaming turning into hiccupping sobs and he began to curl in on himself. John wasted no time in bundling him into his lap. Dean tried to struggle, but John was having none of it.

"Shh buddy, I gotcha. You're okay." He consoled. At John's voice Dean calmed until his only movement was his ragged breathing.

Mary noticed that her baby calmed slightly. Her kicking stopped, but she could still feel her moving restlessly, though not as restless as before.

"S'my?" Dean mumbled, his voice hoarse. John and Mary looked at each other, confused.

"What was that buddy?" John asked quietly, afraid of speaking too loud and disturbing the eerie silence that had fallen over the room.

"S'mmy?" Again, John and Mary made eye contact, confused about what their son was talking about.

When no response came, Dean grew restless, "Wh'rs Smmy?"

"Dean sweetie, who's Sammy?" Mary asked in a soothing voice. Dean's eyes shot open, bloodshot. His gaze darted around frantically before coming to rest on his mother's face, when he froze. Eyes wide open in what looked like shock.

Her daughter gave a particularly hard kick just then and began to turn over and twist around insider her. With a wince her hand flew to her stomach. Dean's eyes followed the movement, his gaze coming to rest on her extended belly.

"S…Sammy?" He asked hesitantly. As if hearing her brother's voice, her child began to quiet and calm down.

Confused, Mary looked from her stomach to Dean, who's focus was locked on her tummy. Hesitantly Dean's hands reached out to come to rest lightly on her belly.

The baby stilled.

Making eye contact with a confused John, Mary did nothing. Unsure of what exactly was going on with her children.

"Sammy? Z'at chou?"

Baby – Sammy – kicked with all her little baby might. Mary gasped and John looked on in wonder as he saw little foot prints through the silken night gown of his wife's stomach.

Dean breathed out deeply before he froze again. His eyes strayed up to his mothers, where they opened impossibly wide before rolling up and his body went limp, passing out.

"John!" She called, distressed by the nights events, "What's happening?"

"'I don't know Mary. I don't know."

"We're bringing him to the hospital. Something's wrong and I want to know what."

"Yeah, yes. Of course. Get your things, I'll get the car ready and bring Dean down."

Mary moved quickly to her room and changed into a pair of Johns sweats. Knowing just how long a wait in the emergency room could be, she grabbed the book by John's bedside and a pair of jeans for her husband. It wasn't until she was in the front seat of the Impala, clutching Dean who was bundled in a blanket that she let her mind slow down and absorb all that had happened that night.

"Sammy." She said quietly. John, who was driving, glanced over to his wife taking in the crease in the corner of her eyes, her frazzled hair and the grip she had on the blanket cocooning her son.

"What?" He asked softly, unsure of what she was saying.

"He called the baby Sammy. Why would he call her that? He knows it's a girl, but we haven't really discussed any names for her. Where did 'Samantha' come from?"

"I don't know Mary. Let's just get him to the hospital and we'll figure it out from there. Hopefully this is just night terrors. But it's best to get him checked out. I want the doctor to look at his throat. All that screaming might've damaged something. I want you to get a check up too."

"John I'm f –" She began to protest, but John cut her off.

"No Mary. You said the baby was acting up too. I want you both checked out to make sure nothing's wrong."

Mary sighed heavily. She remembered when she was pregnant with Dean, John hovered anxiously over her every move, terrified of anything happening to his wife and unborn child. There were quite a few unnecessary trips to the hospital to quiet his anxiety. She had learned when to put up a fight and when to quietly accept defeat and go along with whatever it was that had John worked up. She knew now, with the nights events that she wouldn't get out of a checkup. And as much as she hated hospitals, she could admit that she too was worried about her baby.

By the time they had reached the hospital, Mary had worked herself into a quiet frenzy imagining all the things that could be wrong with her children. John calmed her down somewhat by holding her and Dean close on the hard backed chairs of the emergency waiting room and whispering reassurances in her ear. Dean didn't stir once, which was so unlike her baby boy. Dean was all vibrating energy and motion, constantly moving and never able to sit still for long. Even in his sleep, he would give out little sighs, and shift every few minutes or so. To have him lying so limp and still in her arms terrified her.

By the time the doctor arrived, the sun began to peak weakly through the windows. Having fallen into a light doze, she startled slightly when John put his hand on the back of her neck and gave a light squeeze.

The doctor introduced himself as a Dr. Sand. He was an elderly man with white hair and withered hands. But his eyes bellied a kindness not often seen in doctors.

"What seems to be the problem?" He asked.

Mary let John take the reins as he explained what happened with Dean. His screaming and disorientation upon awakening.

"Hmm. It sounds like Night Terrors. How old is he? Four? But let's wake him up and do a check up."

"Dean?" Began Mary, "Dean honey. Wake up sweetheart. Just for a little while, then you can go back to sleep."

Dean stirred in his blankets, and with a groan his eyes cracked open into green slits. "S'mmy?" He whimpered.

"He keeps asking for Sammy," began John shaking his head, "but he doesn't know a Sammy."

"Hmm. That adds to my theory of Night Terrors. This Sammy could be a person he's dreaming about. Children are often very disoriented after coming out of a Night Terror. He might still be dreaming. Put him on the bed here and lets take a look."

Mary had managed to get Dean to rouse a bit more, but not much. She put him on the hospital bed, but he wouldn't hold himself up and ended up slouched over and leaning on her side.

Dr. Sand began by flickering the his pen light in Dean's eyes, which caused him to flinch from the harsh light.

"Noooo," he moaned, "S'mmy."

Next the doctor took his temperature and checked his reflexes. Dean didn't stir again for the rest of the exam.

"Well, he's running a slight temperature, which is not unexpected. His throat's a little raw, but nothing but resting his voice and warm fluids will help with that. This is just Night Terror's. Nothing to really worry about just yet. Keep an eye on him. For most this is just a phase. It can sometimes be caused by a lack of sleep and an improper diet, so make sure he's getting plenty of rest and is eating healthy."

John and Mary gave identical sighs of relief.

"Was there anything else?" Dr. Sand asked.

"Well," John began before Mary cut him off.

"I'm sure it's nothing," she said, embarrassed by her worry of what was usually a daily occurrence. "It's just that, when Dean was screaming the baby, well, she started moving around more than usual and started kicking pretty hard. She's never acted like that before, and I was just worried about what that maybe meant."

Dr. Sand listened to all this attentively, his brow creased as he nodded his head.

"Hmm. I _have_ heard of babies in the womb reacting to certain stimuli, but I'm not sure if I've heard of this before. It's known that babies can hear outside the womb, which is why parents are encouraged to speak to their child before they are born. It's possible that your baby heard Dean and was reacting to his screams in the only way she knew how. But, because I can't see her I want to do an ultrasound just to make sure she's okay. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, but I just want to cover all our bases. Are you, or were you feeling any pain during her movement?"

"No, it was just…very uncomfortable."

"Good, good. I'm not worried, but just to make sure I'll schedule you for an ultrasound right now. It's best to find out now if anything is wrong than to wait."

And with that, the doctor left the couple with Dean once again bundled in Mary's arms. They didn't speak while they waited and Dean barely roused at all, except to murmur Sammy's name every once and awhile.

It didn't take too long before Mary was getting her ultrasound, and the doctor, like he suspected, found nothing wrong. He sent the family on their way with orders for rest and fluids for Dean, and for Mary to stay off her feet.

And so, the family went home. By now the sun had completely risen and everyone was tired. Mary and John lay Dean in between the both of them in their bed and cuddled him as they drifted off to sleep. Worry for their children abated and with no idea of the turn their future was about to make.

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